


We Will Put the Lonesome on the Shelf

by judgementdays



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, again?????, bookshop au's, louis has depression, ok, you all shout, zayn's an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:11:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judgementdays/pseuds/judgementdays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry looks hopeful and he's smiling down at him, and fuck, Louis wants to kiss him. He really, really, wants to kiss him. He wants to go home with Harry and do everything Zayn and Liam are doing but more.</p><p>or</p><p>Louis' life is falling apart and Harry seems to be perfect. (As is turns out, neither of these things are true)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Will Put the Lonesome on the Shelf

**Author's Note:**

> wow hello hi! so i've been working on this for awhile and i just now got around to finishing it.
> 
> i'd like to dedicate this to mary (lipsticklouis)  
> and marky, (louwhis) as always, but also kiana, (worcaholics) for helping me come up with a title/fixing some mistakes.
> 
> ummmm i highly suggest reading Post Office by Charles Bukowski, for it's an amazing read. um i hope u all enjoy btw
> 
> ((the title is from Ingrid Michelson's You and I))

The air is too freezing, Louis decides, as he walks down the icy sidewalk, rubbing his hands together to keep himself vaguely warm. His bag is slung over one shoulder, his book clutched tightly to his chest as he tries to blink past the rain pounding down on his face.

Really, he can't see a thing. He keeps bumping into strangers who glare and it's not his fault, not really. He can't control the weather.

"Sorry! Christ, I'm sorry!" Louis cries after bumping into an old woman, using his free hand to wipe away his wet fringe sticking to his forehead. He tries to reach down and pick up the bag he's knocked from the ladies hands, but she bats him away and turns the other direction to walk away.

"I'm sorry!" Louis calls after her, cringing as a drop of rain lands straight into his eyes.

"Fucking hell," he mumbles to himself, holding his free hand up to his stinging eye as he pulls his book tighter to his chest and continues walking down the sidewalk to the library.

When he signed up for college courses at the University of Washington, he didn't expect much. He knew the weather was similar to the kind he was used to, but the rain had to be worse. He does not like Seattle, he decides, as he pushes open the door to the library, sighing of relief once the warm air hit his rosy cheeks.

The library was mostly empty, probably because it was early on a Sunday morning, and Louis can't really argue with the fact that no one get's up this early unless you have a paper due tomorrow morning at 9 in the morning, which he does.

He drags his wet body over to a table near the back where a warm fireplace is and drops his bag onto the floor his body curling up onto the warm, large chair as he pulls his legs up to his chest. He has all day, he could sleep or space out for a few hours, warm up, but he sort of want's to get home and watch a movie, so he reaches down to pull his book and paper out of his bag and places them neatly on his lap.

He spends the next twenty minutes organizing and reorganizing his papers and pencils until they are just the way he likes them, and after popping a piece of gum into his mouth, pushing his glasses onto his face and brushing the hair out of his eyes, he's ready to work.

Well, he's ready to work until the bell to the door rings, and he looks up to find, possibly, the most beautiful human being to ever cross the planet. He's got a mane of curls that frame around his pale face, which has lively green eyes. The color reminds him a bit of home, the color of his couch back in Doncaster. He has plump, full lips and he looks out of breath, slightly, like he was running the whole way here. If it had been another day, Louis muses, he would of just looked away. But this face is so clear and so vibrant and he just wants to run his fingers through that hair.

"Hello, Harry," the librarian says without looking up, glasses falling off her nose.

"Hello, Shelly," the boy, Harry, Louis assumes, says back, and then he smiles, a dimple popping into his left cheek, and not only does he have bloody dimples, he's bloody British. Louis likes boys from where he's from, it's a comforting feeling.

Louis watches with great interest as the boy shakes his clothes off a little and takes his warm looking coat off, slinging it over his shoulder. His eyes sort of float over the library until they land on Louis, who is still staring with literal hearts in his eyes.

"Shit," Louis says once they make eye contact and looks down instantly, scribbling random words and numbers onto the blank paper in hopes of being causal. He knows he doesn't pull it off when he hears footsteps and then suddenly a body is in front of him, can feel his still rangy breathing just inches from his face.

"Oops," Harry says with a bright smile, making Louis look up from his paper, titling his chin to see him more clearly. He blinks, then blinks again. Oops? Oops what? He doesn't know what to say, really, so he just sort of smiles and waves up at the tall boy in front of him.

"Hi," he says instead, which only makes Harry smile even wider. Dammit, he needs to stop doing that.

"You're a Brit!" Harry cries loudly, loud enough for a few students to look over at them and stare with raised eyebrows. Louis just laughs, though, nodding.

"I am," he agrees, quieter, because he doesn't really like attention. He reaches a hand up to push his glasses more onto his face before speaking again, "And so are you."

"My mum once told me if you go to a different country and find a Brit, you have to stick together," Harry says, very seriously and it makes Louis snort.

"Us Brits need to stick together," Louis agrees, and Harry laughs loudly, like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. And maybe it was.

"Exactly!" Harry chirps brightly, and really, this is a library, Harry should be getting kicked out for talking so loud and disturbing the learning of others.

They sort of just smile stupidly at each other for a few moments, the library going back to the normal, mundane silence.

"What's brought you to Seattle?" Harry asks curiously, plopping down on the chair next to him. His eyes look curious, like he really wants to know, not just making conversation and he's so genuine it kind of hurts.

"Oh, you know," Louis says with a shrug, setting his pencil down, "I'm taking a few classes down at the U.W in journalism. Just sort of doing whatever." He doesn't say he'd rather be writing a novel.

"A journalist!" Harry exclaims with bright, happy eyes, grinning from ear to ear, "I'm majoring in law. But I'm not sure. It sort of sounds a little boring," Harry shrugs, brushing a loose curl that has fallen into his eyes.

"Whatever makes you happy, mate. You could become a pop star if you wanted," Louis smiles at him but Harry's face has become serious, his eyes wide and innocent.

"You think so?" He asks carefully, and he suddenly looks so much younger, Louis doesn't have the heart to say he was kidding.

"Yeah, yeah of course. I mean, they have those singing shows now days, yeah? What's it called down here, um, The Voice?" Louis offers, voice raising slightly as Harry laughs again, humming softly.

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be cool. You'd come to my audition?" He asks, eyes glistening and this time, Louis laughs and nods.

"And vote every week," Louis promises, placing a hand over his heart, just because he likes to be dramatic.

Harry smiles wide at that, and Louis' pretty sure that would hurt his jaw to smile so much.

From inside his pocket, Harry's phone rings and he reaches down to grab it with a frown and he sighs.

"My room mate's here to pick me up. I'll see you later," Harry prompts, raising an eyebrow.

"Louis. My name's Louis," he fills in quickly and Harry smiles.

"Great! See you later, then, Louis!" Harry picks himself off the seat and skips, literally skips off back to the front door.

Louis is too love stuck to care he's left alone again.

+

After his strange, slightly endearing, encounter with Harry, he has hardly any time to think about the charming (dorky) boy. He's been worrying about all the papers he's got to do, and all the food he has to pay for, since he refuses to ask Zayn, and he's physically worn out by the time it's Christmas break.

He should being going home for the holidays, but he doesn't have enough money to fly home. The thought of his family alone without him breaks his heart, but his job is slow, and he simply can't afford it this year.

He spends the days leading up to his birthday and Christmas moping around his apartment, head hung low and the sleeves to some cheesy jumper hanging off his body. A flaky Christmas tree leans up against the wall, though it has no charm, no spark, no happiness.

He sort of wants to die.

Two days before the 24th, he drags himself out of the comfort of his home, pulling on a long jacket and stuffing a beanie onto his head as he steps out onto the sidewalk. It's snowing now, light, white flakes piling up on the grass, though not enough to stick onto the road.

He's not really sure where he wants to go, so he just sort of wanders, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. After what feels like blocks and blocks of wandering, he turns onto a street where there's a small area of shops, an old, run down bookshop is one of them. He needs a good book, something to read while he spends Christmas by himself, so he directs himself towards the door, his breath heavy when he finally opens the door.

The only person inside, Louis notices, is a girl, probably his age, sitting on the counter, staring down at her phone. The lights flicker from above them and since the place is so beaten down, there is no bell to signal his arrival, though she can probably sense his presence, because she looks up anyway.

"Hi," she says with a nod, eyes scanning his face carefully, "I'm, um. I'm about to go on my break, but you can stay if you want. I'll just be back here," she points to a shaky old room in the back and Louis nods, watching as she smiles and turns to leave. The ugly wooden floor creaks angrily underneath her, but besides that, the shop stays quiet.

Louis tries not to sigh in relief.

It's not like he hates humans or something, because he likes people just fine. Just, sometimes, human interaction is too much for him to handle. Though he wants to be alone 99% of the time, they're's this tiny percent of him chanting into his neck, whispering for him to find love, to find a soul mate. And he wants to, is the thing. He wants to find love and wants to hold someones hand and wants to bring him home to his parents and wants to go to France with them and learn every kink, every detail about them. He wants to fall in love, and he can't wait until he finds someone who loves him just as much.

He keeps his orange scarf wrapped around his neck as he goes through each aisle, using his fingers to trace over the stacks and stacks of books. Some are old, he spots a few he read in 10th grade English and some are new, that John Green book that came out last year. He chooses one carefully, biting his lip as he whispers the name out loud.

"Post Office," he says, ignoring the way his voice scratches and echoes off the high ceilings. He traces over the thin writing of the front cover and nods, marching over to a chair where he can go to read. He settles by the window and peels off one layer of clothes and brings his knees up to his chest before opening the book, letting the sweet scent of book fill up his nose.

He's not sure how long he's been reading, if he's honest, but it must be awhile. The girl never comes back from her break, or maybe she did and left. He wonders if she's looking for someone to take the place off her hands. He'd gladly shape this place up.

He's thinking and reading at the same time, which is never a good idea. He get's so lost in space and time and he doesn't even notice the door fling open, cold air rushing to his warm cheeks until he hears a voice.

"Hello!" Says a British accent, and oh, Louis thinks, tearing his eyes away from the words to stare at the door where a certain curly haired boy is standing.

"Hi," Louis says back, watches as Harry grins brightly and tromps his way into the worn down bookshop. Louis worries the place will fall down if he yells, though Harry doesn't seem to think so.

"Fancy seeing you here!" Harry chirps, plops down right next to him on the seat where he was so carefully curled up in. He nods, pushing his glasses onto his nose.

"Not home for the holidays?" Louis questions with a raised eyebrow, and he does seem like the type to fly home for Christmas and spend three weeks surrounded by nothing but family.

Harry's smile falters for a second, but it's bright and cheery almost seconds after, "Here for a few more days, is all. What about you?"

This time, Louis' smile falters. "Don't have enough cash for a flight home," he says, eyes dropping back down to the book in his lap.

Harry frowns, lips curving into this pout and he looks so genuinely upset it's a little ridiculous.

"I'm alright, though," Louis assures with a small smile. He's not. "I got my mate Zayn with me." He doesn't.

"Are you sure?" Harry asks, looking uneasy at the thought of Louis being alone on Christmas, like they've been friends for years. "If you have no where to go, I'm sure Niall wouldn't mind letting you stay for dinner, at least."

"I'll be alright." He won't. "I don't want to be a bother. Maybe we can all meet up after though, yeah?" Louis smiles at him again, and watches as Harry's puffy lips turn back into a smile.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Harry grins brightly at him, eyes the book in his lap, "How about, I'll meet you right here on the 26th. Deal?"

"Deal," Louis repeats, trying to ignore the way his face lights up as Harry reaches down to shake his hand, seal the agreement. Louis' hand is tiny in Harry's own, and he feels his cheeks flush pink when Harry notices as well. He doesn't say anything, though, just smirks, the closest to anything _but_  dorky he's seen.

"I'll leave you to your reading, Louis," Harry trails off, raising an eyebrow, prompting him.

"Louis. Louis Tomlinson," he answers as calmly as he can and Harry stands up, dropping his now warm hand.

"Harry Styles. I'll see you in four days, Louis Tomlinson!" Harry calls as he grabs a book from the shelf, leaves ten dollars where the book was and then leaves the shop.

He's alone again. The floor keeps creaking. The snow is building up outside.

He can't stop smiling.

+

He spends his birthday with Zayn and Zayn's stupid boyfriend, Liam.

"You and Liam will love each other," Zayn promises as he drags him out of his apartment on the morning of the 24th.

"It's my birthday, Z," Louis whines, struggles with the way Zayn's bony fingers hold his arm so tight. "I deserve to sleep in."

"You can sleep when you're dead," Zayn answers without hesitation. Louis mumbles, "Asshole," under his breath. He knows Zayn hears, but says nothing in return.

Zayn and Louis used to be like brothers, is the thing. They moved to Seattle together and lived in a flat together and then Zayn started drinking more and getting angry more and eventually Louis had to kick him out. They never talk about it anymore, because right after that happened, Zayn met Liam. He quit smoking and drinking and even pills, just for this one fucking boy and Louis' not sure who he's angrier at, Zayn or Liam. He passes Zayn on the way to classes and they nod politely to each other. Sometimes Louis will sit by him during a class, but more times than not Zayn is off doing something more important than dealing with his old best friend who is busy dealing with depression.

Zayn drags him across the icy sidewalks, past the many coffee and bookshops, past the corner market, and it seems like they're walking forever. They're around Green Lake now, and Louis hates Green Lake. He remembers his and Zayn's first day in Seattle, when they went swimming here. Louis supposes that's the day it at started, but maybe it was the day it all ended. He supposes it's up for debate.

They pass the joggers and kids crawling by with no emotions, or at least, Zayn does and Louis tries his hardest not to cry.

"You got to be kidding me," Louis whispers. This time, Zayn does not hear.

He happily drags him up the steps, humming under his breath as he pulls his key out and slides it into the door, then pushes it open.

"Li? I brought Louis!" Zayn calls into the house. Louis wants to puke.

"Oh! Hi!" A voice comes from somewhere inside the house, and Louis watches as a handsome boy comes out of the kitchen, wearing a plaid shirt and nice jeans. He has short brown hair and big, puppy dog looking eyes and fuck, no wonder Zayn left him.

"You must be Louis," the boy, Liam, says, reaches out to shake his hand.

"Yeah. Hi." Louis tries to be polite, shakes Liam's hand. He has a firm grip, and he's tall, taller than himself and Zayn, he notices once they're up close.

"It's nice to meet you! And Happy Birthday!" Liam smiles brightly, dropping his hand and goes to lace fingers with Zayn. Louis tries not to wrinkle his nose. He hates being a third wheel.

"Thanks," Louis says under his breath, but Liam's already dragging Zayn to the kitchen, going on about how good the food will taste and how excited he is to have Christmas, just the two of them.

"And Louis," Liam adds, smiling at him sweetly. Louis fakes a smile back, and wishes he complied the offer to go see Harry. He misses his smile already.

It's so strange and foreign to see Zayn like this, singing in the kitchen, kissing Liam's neck sweetly whenever he can. They hold hands and smile at each other from across the table and fuck, Louis wants that. He wants that so bad, he can feel his hands shaking. No one notices.

"So, it's a big tradition in my family to sit around the Christmas tree and share one thing about yourself that no one else knows," is what Liam is saying a few minutes later, and, Christ, Louis thinks, forcing himself not to roll his eyes.

"Sounds great, babe. I'm sure Louis would love too, yeah?" Zayn nods towards him and Louis glances up from where he's staring at the ground and nods. He doesn't fake a smile this time, because the couple is already skipping towards the tree in the living room.

Liam and Zayn cuddle up by the fire, leaving little to no room for Louis to even sit. The room is large but the tree is larger, filled with many different presents all labeled either 'Liam' or 'Zayn.'

Louis politely sits on the ground, pushes his glasses onto his nose and folds his hands into his lap, glances over at Liam and Zayn to where they're kissing. They're under the goddamn mistletoe.

"I'll go first," Zayn says once they pull away, smiles up at Liam before clearing his throat. "I really love baking."

Liam giggles, sounding delighted and Louis snorts, though they don't notice.

"Really," Louis says under his breath, ignores the way Zayn glares at him from across the room. This seems to be a pattern, Louis muses to himself.

"Me next," Liam grins and kisses Zayn' scruffy jaw, earning the boy to light up. "I've.... I've never been with anyone, before you," Liam's voice becomes soft and if Zayn was smiling before, he's beaming now, looking so proud and happy and like Liam just asked to marry him.

Louis wants to barf.

"You're turn, Lou," Zayn says after they stop staring dreamily at each other, and Louis purses his lips.

"I'm good, thanks," he replies, as causal as he can be.

"Oh, come on, Lou, that's the game!"

"Yeah, but I-,"

"Yeah, Louis, it's not like we'll judge you or anything."

"It's just, I-."

"Please, Lou? It's been so long and I feel like I don't even know you any-,"

"I have depression!" Louis screams, just to shut them the hell up. He hates, hates, hates, not being able to get a word in. Maybe he just hates Zayn and Liam. "Now will you two please shut the fuck up?"

The room goes silent. Even the refrigerator stops humming. Louis' face is red. Liam looks scandalized. Zayn looks like he wants to hit him.

"I need to. I gotta go," Louis mumbles to no one, pushing himself off the hardwood floor. He wants to cry. And puke. Maybe both.

Zayn and Liam don't try to stop him, just glance up at him as he stomps away, grabbing his coat from the floor.

He slams the door and wonders when everyone in Seattle became happier than him.

+

He spends the rest of his birthday alone.

He calls his mum after he get's home from Zayn and Liam's, tells her he loves the girls and her, tells her he'll try to come home as soon as he can. He does not tell her about Zayn or Liam or Harry.

He makes himself a cup of tea and digs around for a candle that he places in a muffin.

"Happy 22, Lou," he whispers to himself, purses his lips as he curls up on the couch.

He eats his muffin and falls asleep to watching Friends at one.

+

The next morning he wakes up at seven. He glances at the tree in the corner and sighs to himself before dragging himself out of bed. It's Christmas, he should at least, like, go out and kiss someone. Or kill someone. He decides either wouldn't be too bad.

He pulls on a heavy jumper and some jeans, wraps a scarf around his neck and heads out into Seattle. It's mostly empty, just a few older woman and men walking. Everyone he sees is holding hands, and it's like Valentines day all over again. He's not sure where he's going, so he just walks, hands stuffed into his pockets. He should maybe study or write some of his papers while he has free time, but that thought is far from his mind when he enters a Half Priced book store.

It's tiny and, unlike before, packed. It's shocking how many people want to buy half priced books on Christmas morning. He didn't even know places were aloud to be open on Christmas. That seems like a right felony to him.

"Hi!" A voice breaks him from his thoughts, and he turns to find a blond boy sitting in the music section of the book store. He has a guitar in his hands and he's smiling at Louis like he known him for years.

"You're Louis!" Blond boy says and Louis raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. He's never seen this kid before in his life, and now he knows his name?

"I'm Niall," he continues, strumming his fingers along the guitar as a pretty young girl pats him heavily on the back.

"Play Jingle Bells," she commands and Niall does just that.

"Anyway!" Niall yells over him playing the Christmas tune, biting back a smile as the girl sings along, "I'm Harry's room mate!"

And, oh, Louis thinks, blinking over at him from across the room. Niall. Harry's room mate. Harry's room mate Niall who Harry is currently spending Christmas with.

"Oh? And how did you know it was me?" Louis calls, shuffling into the store over to the corner Niall and the girl are, shedding his jacket off.

Niall laughs loudly and it fills up the store. "When you two met the first day, he spent an hour telling me about your eye crinkles."

Louis feels his cheeks burn, but then from across the store he hears a shout. "I did not, Horan! Take it back!"

It's Harry.

Louis' day sort of just got better.

He spins on his heel and watches as Harry walks towards them, and even when he sounds angry he's smiling.

"Hi, Lou. We weren't supposed to meet until tomorrow, silly," Harry says once he's close enough and Louis smiles up at him, biting the inside of his cheek as he tries to fight back another large grin.

"Louis was just telling me about how fit he thought you were," Niall comments from the floor. The girl beside him laughs, Harry blushes and Louis stumbles for words.

"I've known you for five minutes and you're already putting words into my mouth," Louis finally says with a fake sigh, drags his eyes over to where Niall and the girl are.

"But you do think he's fit, yeah?" Niall grins brightly and Harry rolls his eyes. It's the first time Louis has seen Harry anything but happy.

"Niall," Harry raises an eyebrow, nodding towards the door. "Don't you have to do something?"

Niall stares up at him blankly and strums his guitar.

Harry clears his throat. "Niall,"

"Harry,"

"Niall."

"Harry."

"Christ! Babe, let's just go, yeah?" The girl, who now is looking like Niall's girlfriend, says, and Niall sighs heavily, winks at them and stands up when the girl starts getting impatient.

"Don't have sex in the Children's section!" Niall calls as he get's dragged off by the girl, still clutching his guitar in his right hand.

Harry huffs out a laugh, rolls his eyes one last time before going back to the smiley Harry he knows and loves.

"Right. Sorry about him," Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. He looks fantastic, is the thing.

"It's fine," Louis shrugs, and it's silent for a few more moments before he speaks again, "So, do you two spend your Christmas going to half priced book stores?"

Harry smirks and laughs, leaning his head against the shelf of books behind them. "I could ask the same to you. Where's Zayn?"

Louis' nose wrinkles at the sound of Zayn's name, and he briefly thinks back to where Zayn probably is, curled up under Liam's arm. They're probably under a mistletoe and sharing stupid secrets about each other and Liam's probably making a nice dinner and they'll probably watch Elf and kiss some more and now he's just angry.

"With his boyfriend," Louis answers with a shrug, reaches up to push his glasses onto his face more. He's not going to cry, he's not.

"Oh. God, I'm sorry," Harry's lips curve into another frown and Louis hates to see this boy frown. It's unreal how much he just wants him to smile at all times. "You're still welcome to come with me and Ni? He's with Amy, you know how it is, but like. If you want to?" Harry looks hopeful and he's smiling down at him, and fuck, Louis wants to kiss him. He really, really, wants to kiss him. He wants to go home with Harry and do everything Zayn and Liam are doing but more.

But why would he want to do that to Harry? He could do better than someone like him. So much better. Harry's smiley and dorky, incredibly charming with someone like Niall for a best friend. He could probably have anyone he wants in the world, why would he make Harry tie down to someone as stupid as him? No one wants to fall in love with a boy who has depression. He read that in a book once. And for once, he oddly, strangely relates to the sick, alcoholic protagonist in Post Office. Minus the booze. And the woman.

"I can't," Louis says instead, cringes after he says it. "I'm sorry. Have fun, though." Louis' not sure what he's doing.

"Oh." He hears Harry say, but he ignores it and grabs his coat, pulls it back on.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Harry calls as he walks through the door.

Louis does not respond.

+

Louis stops by the bookshop he went to where he met Harry the second time, buys Post Office and starts heading back to his apartment. He passes Green Lake and does not think of Zayn, but thinks of Harry.

He thinks they could spend a summer day playing in the water someday. He walks quicker past the lake and finally comes home.

He reads through the book and stuffs his face with mashed potatoes.

"I want the whole world or nothing," Louis repeats as he falls asleep on the floor.

His hand is in a bowl of mashed potatoes and a book is on his face.

He figures it was a pretty good Christmas.

+

He wakes up the next morning with sticky fingers and a paper cut on his nose. He opens his eyes and then squeezes them shut tight again when the light blinds him. It's the 26th.

He wants to push himself up off the floor, start getting dressed and run towards the bookshop as fast as he can but he does not. They'd only met three times, Louis tells himself as he rolls onto his stomach, places his chin on the floor and tries to breathe.

It's not like Harry was looking for a soul mate. It'll be better if Louis sticks to his classes after the break. He promises to never return to the bookshop again.

+

He breaks the promise two days later, the 28th.

He's spent the majority of his time reading and rereading Post Office. He tells himself he's not like Henry Chinaski, that he's got a much more promising life than him but every time he finishes the book he can't help but hold it tight to his chest and breathe heavily.

He needs to go out. He needs to live his life. He's going to end up like Henry, an old, boring, womanizer, alcoholic dickhead with a useless journalism degree. He rolls around on his floor and cries, yells and screams. The neighbors moved out last month. He can do what he pleases.

He traces the patterns in the floor and showers seven times. Eventually they'll shut his water off, since he hasn't paid the bill in months. He figures they take pity on him, since last time his landlord came over he was crying over Friends with a jar of pickles.

After he dries off from his seventh shower, he gets dressed and goes outside towards the bookshop. He takes the long way, dragging his feet in the snow while he walks. He passes soccer moms going shopping and kids playing out in the snow. He only sees one couple, which he figures is a bonus.

When he finally gets to the old, rundown bookshop, he hops up each step to the door. He looks up at the sign in front of the door for the name and, when squinting, sees in faint letters, "Left Bank Books Collective." He likes the name of it. He smiles to himself, whispers, "Left Bank Books," under his breath as he enters the shop. The first thing he sees is Harry.

The second thing he sees, is the girl in front of him, gripping onto his curls and sucking his face off. To be fair, Harry is also sucking her face off, but, well, it's quite frankly disgusting.

"Oh," Louis says to himself, and he tries not to stare. It's not like he was expecting Harry to come down and sweep him up off his feet. He just. He wishes things, for once, went his way.

This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper, Louis thinks.

The door is still propped open with is foot, and the two most notice the cold air coming in, because they both turn around. The girl holding Harry smiles. Harry looks like he's going to puke.

"Louis," he says, sounding pained.

"I'm just going to. Leave, yeah," Louis replies back hoarsely, swallowing down the bad taste forming in his mouth. He's not going to cry, he's not.

"Lou, wait!" Harry drops her waist and spins on his heel to face him and Louis just smiles. He wants to fucking die.

"Bye, Harry," Louis says, with as much blankness he can muster. He feels stupid and pathetic for even thinking Harry liked him. He's an idiot. Fuck.

He pushes open the door and stands in the cement, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths before leaving.

Harry does not follow.

Louis does not expect him too.

(He kind of wishes, once in his life, someone would follow him.)

+

Louis stumbles his way home, slipping on ice and cursing under his breath. When did his life become so fucked up? He feels fucked up. He is fucked up. He considers jumping off a bridge. This is not the first time he's considered this.

He makes it back to his apartment alive. He collapses on the ground and cries as loud as he wants. He allows himself to wallow in self pity and hatred for the rest of the day and promises to get his life back on track tomorrow. He's got classes in the morning anyway. He'll move on.

He always does.

+

The morning is rough. He showers and spends an hour getting dressed, lazily eats some Honey Nut Cheerios and shoves his feet into a pair of boots. He makes it out into the snow and drags himself to the universality for his class.

He's able to take his mind off how fucked up he is for an hour, ignores Zayn when he passes by and walks past the library as if it was just another building.

He feels, dare he say it, better. Until he runs into one of his professors in the hallway, who seems to love to torture him.

"Mr.Tomlinson," he says, tapping his clipboard with a pencil, "I need a favor. I saw you reading Post Office during my speech. Normally, I'd make you write a letter to me and the whole class explaining why you chose to read instead of listen to me."

Louis' cheeks flush and he wants to stutter out an excuse, but the professor does not seem mad.

"But, this book is one of my favorites, since I was a teenager," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out thirty dollars then crumples it into Louis' hands.

"Buy me a copy with this money, and this money only, and you're off the hook." He's gone before Louis can complain or whine or do something, because, honestly, where is he going to find another copy of his damn book?

(He knows of a place, but he refuses to go there.)

+

He ends up going there.

He walks in the cold snow down the sidewalk, wondering when this became his life. Professors have never even glanced his way before, let alone remember his last name. He's pretty sure this is illegal, but he's 22, and he could easily say no and walk away.

He keeps walking towards the shop, despite his instinct telling him to run the other way.

When he pushes open the door to Left Bank Books, he thinks it's empty. He sighs of relief and wanders towards the shelf he found Post Office before. He wants to leave as quickly as he can, find the book, buy the book, get the hell out of here.

But then he's finding the book and a voice is calling his name.

"Louis!" It's Harry.

Fuck.

"Louis!" Harry yells again, and now he's running across the store, dropping books and papers with every step he takes.

"That was Caroline, who you saw. She sort. She sort of, kisses everyone hello," Harry's out of breath when he's finally standing in front of Louis, breathing heavy as if he just ran the mile, not across a bookshop. "And gets offended if you don't kiss back. We're not. She's not," Harry makes some hand movement and then drops both of his arms back to his side and leans against the shelf, fighting to catch his breath.

"God. When we first met, I wasn't. I wasn't myself," Harry whispers, and, oh, this isn't what he expected. "I saw you and you looked, fuck, you looked so pretty and perfect and nice and I'm sitting here with depression," Harry laughs bitterly, running a hand over his face. "With depression. And I. I forced myself to be this happy, giggly person," Harry closes his eyes and then opens them again. "I'm not that person, Lou. That's not me. I'm a grump and an asshole and I. I understand if you don't want anything to do with me. I'm a liar and stupid and, fuck-,"

Harry stops talking because Louis is kissing him. He's up on his toes, arms wrapped around his neck and pulling him in closer. He's not thinking. He's not breathing. It's like he melted with Harry and now they are one, together. Soul mates, Louis thinks, as Harry nibbles carefully on his bottom lip.

He doesn't have to say anything. Harry doesn't have to say anything more.

They smile at each other, and that's that.

+

fin

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks! catch me on livejournal at almostranthereds and tumblr judgementdays for more stuff/updates and stuff ya ok bye!!!
> 
> (feedback would be nice!!!!!!!)
> 
> ~we read many books  
> because we cannot   
> know enough people~


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